


Cracks in the Wall

by DrJLecter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will Graham, Hannibal is manipulating, Hannibal/Will if you squint hard enough, I just can't write gen because no, M/M, Will is Confused, coda for episode 08s02, what happens after the barn scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJLecter/pseuds/DrJLecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After what happened in the barn Will flees and thinks hard about where his way will lead him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracks in the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This damn barn scene just doesn't want to leave me alone, so I had to write something. I may write more because his way to darkness is so utterly fascinating. 
> 
> I have not watched ep 10 yet (*sobbing*) so please no spoilers in the comments. 
> 
> Betaed by my darling DarkmoonSigel. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Will fled the barn as soon as he heard the police arrive at the scene, pressing past an officer to escape into the freezing cold night. Ignoring his name being shouted after him, Will hurried into the deep snow, vanishing into the darkness of a starless night. 

He had to get away. He didn’t worry about Jack. Dr. Lecter would present the agent with a believable story that would cast Will’s actions in the best light possible to make his decisions shine. His opposition was a stinking, traumatized serial killer who’d just crawled out of the womb of a horse. From personal experience, Will knew that no one would listen to the man. 

Finally stopping next to a tree protruding out of the darkness, Will took deep breaths, letting the cold air burn his lungs and clear out his head a bit. He needed to collect his thoughts, make sense of the world around him again. 

What had just happened?

Bending over, Will dry heaved food he hadn’t eaten, supporting himself with a hand on the tree trunk. Fuck, his sickness ran deep, tasting sour as it stripped the back of his throat with acid and grief. 

Will replayed the scene in the barn and tried to remember what the hell had possessed him to pull the trigger. And keep pulling it even after Dr. Lecter’s finger blocked the hammer. He’d almost killed that guy. No, he _had_ killed the man. He’d pulled the trigger and only because of Lecter’s quick reaction, a monster was still alive and Will wasn’t a murderer. 

The disappointment he felt about that ran deep and even worse, he found it hard to care about his lack of remorse. 

Dr. Hannibal Lecter. The Chesapeake Ripper. 

Will could still feel the warm broad palm, first on his wrist and then on his face, the thumb placed on his ear. He could still hear the sounds of murmured words, the rasp and the accent of them heavier than usual. Will took a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. 

Dr. Lecter had sounded so happy, proud even, and his smile had been real. Hitting the tree hard with his fist, Will tried to kill the feeling of accomplishment that came from winning that expression. He succeeded in bruising his hand.

Straightening up to lean his back against the tree, Will tried to get his thoughts and emotions back under control. The pain in his hand was barely helping. He had to be more careful playing this game of cat and mouse. The mouse rarely ever won in the end. Or was he even still a mouse?

Since his bonding experience with Jack over ice fishing and the agent’s barely veiled approval of his plan to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, Will started to up his game to catch the fish that got away. Now he wondered if maybe he should slow down to lessen the risk of getting caught in his own net. To play the living lure for a fish that wasn’t hungry, he’d completely turned himself upside down and inside out.

In making the lure, Will had bought a complete new wardrobe, his materials more fitting to the Ripper’s tastes than his own. He’d started to voice the darkness of his thoughts instead of hiding them, sharpening his hook to a fine angled point. He knew Hannibal was enthralled to hear all of his murderous thoughts, especially when it directly related to his own actions. 

His treacherous mind made him remember the feel of Hannibal’s hand upon his face, recall the words about the connections between them. Memories feeling as real as the first time, Will cursed his touch starved body. It wasn’t like he’d had a lot of people touching him before his prison time, but his dogs had filled that particular void. Being stuck in a cage like an animal had robbed him of that little bit of comfort, the relief that it brought to him. The last time he’d had felt a touch of skin on skin was when Alana still thought him worth her time and deserved her pity. 

Smothering hurt and anger at Alana only gave power to the wave of resentment that rose within Will, going ever stronger. His empathy and confusion in the matter of his innocence had made him accept her point of view for a time. The one where she saw him as a guilty man who simply couldn‘t remember what he had done, but when his innocence had been proven, he had gotten neither the hug or the apology he had been expecting from her. It had hurt, her rejections wounding him deep in his soul. The disappointment in her had almost been surprising to discover. It only grew as he watched her fall with ease further into Dr. Lecter’s trap. 

Upon their meeting at his house with the dogs, Will was sure she’d seen it on his face. There was no way he managed to hide all his hurt feelings, especially with his rude dismissal afterwards, but she hadn’t cared. There came a dull ache from that sort of indifference, one that only grew worse with time like cancer spreading.

Will almost choked on a dry sob that ruined his throat further. The sound of it stole his strength, Will letting himself slide down the tree to sit in the snow. Grabbing a handful of it with his hurting hand, he pressed the cold element into his face, trying to force himself back together. 

How was it that the only person left in this world who managed to make him feel good was the very same killer he was trying to catch?

The tree trunk was a good place to hit his head against. Maybe he’d get back to his senses after some shocks to his stupid brain. A shout from the direction of the barn jerked him out of his thoughts. He wondered what would happen to Peter now. Poor Peter. Will envied him though. He envied him for the hate he felt for his social worker, because of all the feelings he had for Hannibal Lecter, hate was not one of them. It would be so much easier to handle this situation if he could just hate the man. Hate was pure.

But no, there was no room left for hate within him. Instead, Will had to battle with the urge to make the killer smile more often. It looked good on Lecter’s face, shifting the striking features of his foreign facial structure to something brilliant and glowing, almost surreal in its keen beauty. He loved that small almost fleeting smile, when Will was the one making cannibal jokes at the killer’s table, knowing that finally someone else was in on the puns while Jack glared a warning across the plates. Will had found it hard to maintain his sour and impolite expression on his face.

The broad, almost huge smile in his office when Will admitted to finally finding him interesting would be forever burnt into the wall of Will’s mind. If that was what happiness looked like on the Chesapeake Ripper’s face, Will had a bad feeling that he had won a battle to lose the war. 

Though he had moved beyond anger, there was still resentment at Dr. Lecter for a lot of things. The most recent one was stopping him before he could shoot the bastard social worker. He still wanted to do it so badly, even envisioned the blood and brain matter misting through the air to paint itself over the barn’s floor in wet shades of crimson and ivory. Will longed to feel the satisfying recoil of the gun in his hand, the smell of gunpowder burn his nose, and that sound that was deafening as it was righteous. 

Dr. Lecter had been right of course. It wouldn’t have been the reckoning he promised, but what Dr. Lecter didn’t seem to get that it wasn’t supposed to be. Not everything was about him. Will wanted to give Peter the justice he now would never get. 

Burying his face into his cold hands, Will tried to not think about what had followed after he had been denied. Of Dr. Lecter’s tight grip on his wrist, the man jerking him out of his trance, their closeness, the whispered words, the stark pride in his face, the open joy of witnessing Will sin.

_With all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar, and I can whisper through the chrysalis. But what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me._

Dr. Lecter had practically admitted to influencing him, to framing him, to using psychic driving on him, and in response, Will had just stood there, listening and feeling, all the while trying to keep his heart from exploding with joy. This was a really dangerous path he was walking down. Will knew he had to be careful in keeping up the game to catch the fish, not make it his reality. 

And yet…Will found it hard to care about where his path was leading, the truths he was finding along the way. The cracks in his psyche had always been there, caused by his empathy, by how other people treated him, his time in the hospital, and how he’d been abandoned by all his friends. Sending Matthew Brown to kill Hannibal Lecter had been the first intentionally caused crack though, and it had been a big one, letting the darkness that lay underneath seep through. His urge to kill that bastard who did this to Peter was another one. His constant fantasies about killing Dr. Lecter, the enjoyment he experienced, and talking to him about it was another.

Maybe soon the foundation of his psyche was so damaged with cracks that it would just burst and fall apart, revealing a new Will Graham and a brand new monster. Many, many cracks all at once, making Will feel akin to Humpty Dumpty. Like him, no one was going to be able to put Will back together again. The sad thing was, he didn’t want anyone to try.

The sound of crunching snow ripped Will out of his headspace, making him look up to see Dr. Lecter coming toward him. Belated, Will realized how cold he was, cursing his stupidity as he barely felt his hands and legs anymore.

“Will? Are you alright?” the good doctor asked as he stepped close to Will. 

“I’m fine. I just needed a moment to calm down.” Will muttered. Trying to get his frozen body to behave, he clumsily got up from the ground. 

“You must be cold. Let’s go back to my car and I drive you home. I already told Jack everything he needed to know.” Dr. Lecter regarded him with an intense look he felt through and through. There was a slight smile on his lips, one that made Will look away to stop himself from smiling back.

Taking a first step towards the barn, Will stumbled over a buried root and only thanks to Dr. Lecter’s quick reaction he managed to not land face first in the snow. Grumbling with annoyance he tried to reclaim his hand, but it was gripped tightly instead. 

“You are hurt. And far too cold for your own good.” Dr. Lecter observed.

“It’s nothing.” Will mumbled, feeling his own friend embarrassment arrive to color his cheeks red.

“Nonsense, it looks painful and your hands are already turning blue. I will take a look at them in the car. I have a very well stocked first aid kit.” Dr. Lecter said, much to Will’s inner amusement.

Will rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

Ignoring Will’s toke protests, Dr. Lecter turned around without another word, dragging Will after him, never letting go of his hand. Will followed the killer without further complaint. He had a feeling this could turn into a pattern, the design of which he should try to avoid if he wanted to catch his fish. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to anymore.  
.,.,.


End file.
